


The Company of Wine, Fire and Shadows

by TrashqueenofAngmar91



Series: Of Shadows and Tenderness [5]
Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Bonding, Drinking, F/M, Headcanon, Kinda Fluffy, Kings & Queens, My interpretation of Eärnur's fate, Poor Ol' Witchy, Reader is a woman, Reader is of the race of Man, Sauron Being an Asshole, The Silmarillion References, This is corny but I had to do it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-01
Updated: 2018-09-01
Packaged: 2019-07-01 02:44:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15764997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrashqueenofAngmar91/pseuds/TrashqueenofAngmar91
Summary: The taste of wine, the warmth of fire and the company of the lord of Minas Morgul was an allure you couldn't resist.Part of my "Of Shadows and Tenderness" series. Takes place a few days before chapter 4 of "The House of Angmar".





	The Company of Wine, Fire and Shadows

**Author's Note:**

> ....yes I had to do it. I had yet another idea and I'm still obsessed with writing Witch-king/reader stuff. It is my burden and I must act upon it LOL. 
> 
> It's kinda, sorta fluffy. Although that's up to debate considering that this is the Witch-king that we're talking about. It's a little idea I had in mind and I had fun with writing it. Ol' Witchy needs more love and appreciation anyway. 
> 
> Please enjoy this expansion of the series and read on!

The Company of Wine, Fire and Shadows

Although there was a perpetual, dark veil that loomed over Minas Morgul, you could sense it was evening. Even in this place, you could sometimes perceive when it was day and night. There were times when you honestly couldn't tell and it was a matter of guessing. But in your bones, you knew it was the night and you were glad. Such a time ushered in rest and relaxation. You planned on having some quietude and peace to yourself and then fall asleep.

Angwen and Venarion already retired for the day as well. Your siblings were weary and you would happily allow them to retreat in to their chambers. The day was long for each of you. Venarion was busy combing through the underbelly of the city and was gone for most of the day. Angwen had rotated between lingering by your side for awhile and then wandering through the citadel to pass the time. Both of them were keen on going to bed and you understood them fully. There was no way that you would delay or keep them from what they desired.

After you saw them off for the evening, you made your way to your chambers. You deemed a glass or two of wine would be most agreeable. Making a fire would also help to set the mood and soothe you further. There was an unavoidable chill the dead city had and the fireplace was a pleasant and appreciated addition to your quarters.

Finally, you made it to your destination. You opened the door and closed it behind you. A smile was on your face and you sensed this was going to be a very peaceful and relaxing evening. You would take what you could in this place and wouldn't squander it. You were looking forward to it far more eagerly than you thought you would.

You stood in the foyer and was about to exit it and enter your bedchamber. Then you paused when you heard the distant crackling and popping of a fire. The distinct aroma of burning wood filled your nose in no time at all.

This caught you off guard but you weren't necessarily startled. Instead, you were curious more than anything else. Fueled by your intrigue, you left the foyer and walked into the adjacent room.

As soon as you rounded the bend, you caught sight of an inviting and lively fireplace. Orange flames danced on the charring wood and already, you could feel the heat that was radiating from it. It called to you, urging you to sit by it and empty your mind of all your troubles and sorrows even if it was temporary.

You could hardly give much attention to the hospitable warmth when you saw an upholstered wooden chair that sat before the fireplace. Sitting in the high backed seat was a dark, robed shape. The figure's head was tilted downwards and appeared to be focused on a book that was opened up on his lap. He seemed entirely invested in his selection and didn't lift his head up to greet you.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to disturb you," you said, coming closer. "I hope I wasn't interrupting anything."

"You have not," the Witch-king replied.

His faceless hood looked away from his material and his invisible stare trained on you. How you wished you could look into his eyes and see what you had wed. No longer did his gaze chill you but neither was it satisfying.

"If you desire peace, I shall leave," you said.

You felt somewhat awkward and out of place. Usually, when he was reading or engaged in his studies, he confined himself to his study. So to see him sitting by the fireplace was something unusual. If he wanted solitude, you would give it to him.

"Nay, I would like you to stay," he answered. "These are my chambers as they are yours, my dear. I shall not chase you out. Instead, if you have come here to sleep, I will leave and grant you privacy."

"No," you said honestly but gently. "I have no intention of falling asleep just yet. In fact, I planned on starting a fire and resting before retiring. But it appears I no longer have to worry about it."

"Do not let my presence affect your plans, my queen. I invite you to join me if you are feeling agreeable to the thought."

There was no reason to shun his offer. No longer did he repulse you and he continued to treat you very well. It seemed as if every time you spoke to him, you discovered there was more depth to him. There was far more than an entity of malevolence garbed in tattered shrouds.

Wordlessly, you grabbed another chair and placed it next to his. Then you sat down beside him and relaxed into your seat. A smile formed as you settled further and let the calmness cradle you.

"Thank you for this fire," you said. "You've saved me the trouble of preparing one."

He gave you a nod. Then he closed his book and set it on a small, wooden table situated on the far side of his chair. Now that you arrived, reading was the least of the Morgul lord's concerns. His studies could wait.

"I am pleased my initial assumption was proven correct," he stated. "I deemed the thought might appeal to you."

"A fire is always a good and welcome thing," you said as you stared into the flames. "It reminds me of better times. It reminds me of the many nights I used to spend by the hearth." You shook your head, not wanting to dwell on the matter and have it potentially douse your spirits. The loss of your family was still on your mind. "May I ask what you were reading?"

"I do not want to trouble your mind if you are indeed seeking to rest and relax."

You had a hint of what he might've been reading about. His collection of tomes and literature consisted mainly of dark subjects. The one time you selected something from his miniature library, you picked up something on sorcery. There were odd diagrams and disturbing drawings of creatures or spirits you would never want to meet in the flesh. It was also written in some language you couldn't interpret, leading you to assume it was possibly Black Speech or some other tongue Sauron and his servants used. You almost felt lucky that you couldn't understand what was written on those fell pages.

"I am well," you replied. You wanted to be polite and inquire about the matter anyway.

"If you must know, it was about the creatures and aberrations Morgoth had created and gathered to him under his reign," he answered.

The very name chilled the marrow in your bones. You hadn't known much of Morgoth at all. Your grandfather had only mentioned the vile Valar a handful of times and he left it that. All you knew about this being was that he was supposedly Sauron's lord and master. He had only given you that vague explanation and that was all. It seemed as if he didn't know much himself or he had chosen to not elaborate on the grim topic further. Either way, you didn't complain.

"There was a diverse manner of monsters he had in his employ," the Witch-king continued. "Aside from Orcs, there were dragons, Balrogs, werewolves, vampires, spiders and other beasts."

Yet such things were no longer so abundant in Middle Earth. With the fall of Morgoth and the razing of his stronghold of Angband, most of his abominations were smitten and destroyed by the forces of the Valar. While Morgoth had been tossed into the Void as a result of his defeat, his servants were destroyed. Despite this purge, Sauron had managed to escape and went on to carry out his master's will and was heir to his wickedness for many years to come.

You had heard only fragments of the legends and tales of the First Age. Your knowledge was rather incomplete of it but all you knew was that they were undoubtedly frightening and evil times. If you were to ever learn more about it, you were sure you would have to be lucky and come across an Elf and ask them about the subject.

He noticed how you became quiet and withdrawn as he reluctantly told you these things. It was exactly as he suspected.

"It is a topic ill suited for a husband and wife to discuss," he said.

"The matter does not frighten me," you argued. "I was merely in thought over it. My knowledge of that time is very poor. I am certain I would never want to meet any of those beasts you mentioned."

"Indeed. My master's armies are rather limited in comparison to what they once possessed. With the fall of his lord so long ago, many of those creatures were lost. Instead, my master prefers to use Orcs and Men to do his bidding since the fall of Angband…"

"I shall not press the matter further." You could sense the embers of anger burning deep within him. You wanted him to be at ease alongside you. "Forgive me, my king."

Before either of you could say anything further, a sharp and loud knock rang out. His head turned to the foyer where the noise came from. Someone was at the door.

"Enter," he commanded, raising his voice so that he could be heard.

A few seconds later, you could hear the sound of boots against the stone floor. You turned your head, catching sight of a familiar face. He was bearing a metal tray in his hands and atop that surface sat a pitcher and a silver goblet.

"Pardon me, my lord and lady," Berwûld bowed to the both of you. "Forgive me for the intrusion, I only wanted to check in and see if either of you requested anything."

"A cup of wine would be greatly appreciated," you said, smiling affably at the short, one-eyed Orc.

"And anything for the king?"

"No," the Nazgûl retorted, "I do not require anything."

"Very well, my lord."

The Orc handed you the drinking vessel. Then he began to pour the deep, red, vibrant liquid from the pitcher. Once it was filled near the top, you told him to stop and Berwûld ceased.

"Thank you, Berwûld," you said.

"You are most welcome, my lady," he said, giving you a smile. "Shall I leave the rest with you if you require more in the future?"

"Yes, please."

Gingerly, Berwûld set the tray and vessel down on a nearby table.

"You are dismissed for the evening," the Wraith lord said. "I would like to have a few words with my wife and she is retiring soon."

"Very well, my lord," the Orc said. "Goodnight, sire. Goodnight, my lady."

"Goodnight, Berwûld," you said, returning the gesture to him.

By far, he was the most pleasant denizen in all of Minas Morgul you met and you were genuinely delighted to have him by your side. He wasn't like most of the Orcs in this place and you were very grateful for it. Interacting with him was a refreshing treat. Even Angwen and Venarion didn't mind him that much and like with you, he treated them with respect as well.

Berwûld left without another word, granting you the peace and privacy you sought.

"He is to your liking?" the Witch-king inquired.

"He has gone beyond my previous assumptions and exceeded my expectations," you answered. "He is cordial, polite and accommodating. In fact, he is friendlier than some Men I have met over the years. He always makes sure I am comfortable. I have no issue with him and he is doing a very good job."

"Good. He has been a servant of mine for many years and I am pleased that he is agreeable to you. He has proven his worth and hopefully he keeps up with his progress."

Normally, you would've sipped and nursed at your wine. You would've enjoyed it at a slow and leisurely pace. But now you were tempted to drink it more liberally and imbibe in a little more than what you were accustomed to. You would naturally avoid going too far but you wanted the familiar, warmth in your belly and the placating rush it provided.

You lifted the goblet up to your lips and took a few hearty sips. After doing that, you stopped and let out a content sigh. A small smile came across your lips and you once again believed you would sleep well.

"You need not hesitate to tell me anything," he said rather suddenly. "We are joined. I will answer you the best I can."

"I know I can trust you," you said. "I just do not want to speak needlessly. I do not want you to view me as talkative and grating."

"Far from it. It is not often I have conversations with someone whose company I value. Forced interactions with beings I am not fond of are not invigorating and engaging. The other Nazgûl and I have nothing to discuss other than the obvious things. We do not share our pain with one another though we are always aware of it. So of course I am eager to speak with the woman I chose as my wife."

You were unsure if the heat starting to swelter in your cheeks was a blush or a side effect of the wine pooling within your stomach and then radiating outward through your body. Whatever it was, you tried to ignore it and dismiss it by taking a few more sips of the beverage.

"And what would the lord of the Nazgûl like to discuss?" you asked a few seconds later.

"Whatever the Morgul lady desires," he retorted.

That was a broad topic and you hoped he wasn't being coy. There were a great many things you had in mind but you didn't want to ramble on with reckless abandon. He was open to supposedly anything but you were still at a loss. This would be no easy feat for you.

Luckily, you needed to only ponder for a few moments. Realistically, you were surprised you hadn't brought up this matter far sooner. The topic in question was something you were very familiar with. In fact, it would be safe to assume that any Northern Ranger or Gondorian would personally ask him what you had in mind if they were given the opportunity. It had long been assumed and theorized but the truth was never solid.

"What happened to the last king of Gondor?" you asked. "What happened to King Eärnur when he accepted your challenge?"

The Witch-king folded his hands together. His gaze never broke away from your face.

"He did not survive," was his answer.

He stated the obvious. When Eärnur was first crowned king of Gondor, the Witch-king challenged him to single combat to settle their previous business and encounter in Angmar that occurred some years earlier. The newly christened king's faithful steward managed to talk him out of such a dire errand. The Witch-king repeated the same challenge seven years later and this time, Eärnur wouldn't be hindered. He left with a small company of knights and they rode to Minas Morgul. Neither the king nor his knights were ever seen again and all believed that they had been slain when they arrived to honor the challenge.

But what happened after the Gondorian king entered the gates was entirely subject to debate. All assumed he was killed or at the very least imprisoned and tormented until he died miserably some time later. Whatever happened, the line of kings was broken and Gondor was left without a lord for many centuries.

"Eärnur was one of the biggest buffoons I ever had the displeasure of meeting," he elaborated further. Disgust was evident in his voice. "I issued the challenge as per my master's command. Because I had destroyed the kingdoms of Arnor, he wanted me to land a heavy blow to Gondor as well. He fancied me a king slayer and he wanted me to prove my title yet again. I did as he told me for I had no choice in the matter either way. The first time, my challenge went unanswered. The Dark Lord bade me to do it again and I did. That time, he answered and he went through with it. I was actually somewhat astonished. Eärnur was hotheaded, brash and dense. Did he forget the prophecy that Elf lord made? Did he forget that no Man can kill me?" An annoyed hiss came from that blackened, empty space. "Arrogantly, he strode up to the gates of my realm and demanded I face him. And face him I did… He was a commendable, fierce and worthy warrior and I applauded his bravery but ultimately, he succumbed. When my sword struck his, his blade shattered, leaving him defenseless and helpless. As it broke, my blade cleaved his skull and Eärnur died instantly. His company cried out in despair and fury when they saw me kill their king and they tried to avenge him by attacking me. I ended up having to cut them down as well and I left no survivors. After it was finished, I ordered their bodies to be tossed over the walls and that was the end of it."

Indeed, it confirmed your suspicions. He was indeed killed as you and so many others believed but knowing the full story of it brought you closure. It was indeed a pity but you had to agree Eärnur was foolish for accepting the Witch-king's challenge. The king had not reigned long at all and he had not acquired a wife and produced an heir to take his place. Due to his damning choice, Gondor was in the current state it was in.

"Perhaps I did the people of Gondor a service by ridding them of their foolish king," the Witch-king snarled. "If he had survived, it's possible he would've ended up ruining his own realm. He was young and stupid and he paid the price."

"I suppose I cannot comment," you said, sounding a bit unsure of how to navigate this. "I cannot theorize or foresee what could've happened if he lived. But what's done is done."

"There is a man in Minas Tirith who will take up Eärnur's neglected crown. He is not king just yet but he is destined to be one if the Ring is destroyed. My master wants him dead as well and if all goes according to his wishes, Gondor will never have to worry about recovering its lost, royal bloodline again."

Things were taking a dark turn yet again and you wanted to try to steer from such a dismal and grim path. If it could be avoided, you'd try to do it. But it was difficult to change the subject as you didn't know what other topics could be discussed.

Anything about his past life was out of the question. He hardly remembered anything, let alone his true name and identity. All he remembered was where he came from and the face of the woman he loved. Aside from that, there was nothing else he recalled. You knew that if you tried to ask him anything about such a thing, you would get no results.

Though you had married him, you knew virtually nothing about him aside from what he had done during his tenure as Sauron's second-in-command. He most certainly had a distinct personality aside from the corruption he was riddled with and you noticed he had some quirks and interests. But all in all, it was a tricky dilemma. He was an enigma and he would continue to be one.

"You have asked me a question," he said, dispelling the silence. "Now I would like to ask you something. Or rather, I would like you to tell me something, my dear."

Once more, you took another swig of wine. Slowly but surely, it was getting lower. The warmth was encompassing you and you could feel yourself steadily unravel and relax more and more.

"I'll answer it the best I can," you replied.

A low laugh came from him. He turned slightly in his seat so he could face you more fully.

"I am curious," he said. "I know the area is familiar to me but I would like you to tell me about your home. I want you to describe it and I wish to understand it from your perspective. I can easily see how much you cherish it."

You still dearly missed your home. The subject was sensitive and sore but you were able to adhere to his request. As far as you could tell, there was no subtle maliciousness in his words and intent. To you, he genuinely seemed interested and wanted to know your view. You saw there was no harm in sharing this.

"The lands between Bree and the Barrow-downs are very near and dear to me," you began. "When my grandfather married my grandmother, they built a cottage and set up their homestead there. My father was born and raised there. My siblings and I all followed the same path. We had neighbors but their homes were spaced some distance between ours. Sometimes, it felt as if we were the only souls in that area. For as long as I can remember, I've always loved my home. I would wander into the woods plenty of times and play and dance amongst the trees with my siblings for hours. They were always so cool and shady and I always felt safe there. There were also nearby fields and farms and I remember wandering through them too. My old friend and I used to stay out well after sundown and catch fireflies in the fields during the summer. When I wasn't in the fields and forest, I would roam along the nearby creeks. I remember swimming in the shallow pools and catching frogs and small fish." A smile graced your features and you drank yet again. "I cannot complain. My childhood was untroubled and pure."

"You sound happy and light," he noted. "Please, continue."

"When spring would come, I would always race out into the first rain shower of the year. I remember being so happy to see rain instead of snow after so many months. The birds would be singing again and the trees would wake up once more. Flowers would spring forth from the cold earth and my heart would be glad. With summer's arrival, that was perhaps when I was the happiest. The days were long and the weather was pleasant. I would pluck ripened berries from the bushes and eat them, oftentimes spoiling my appetite for dinner much to my mother's disapproval." You chuckled. "I hardly ever spent any time in my house during that season except for sleeping. Then fall would come and I would help out with the apple harvest. Mother always made the best cider and when it was warmed, it was the best thing to drink on a chilly, crisp autumn's eve. The fires would become more frequent and my father and grandfather would tell my siblings and I of the tales of old. And eventually, winter would show itself. The fireplace was always burning and we stayed inside. Sometimes I would play out in the snow but it would never last for long. Grandfather always seemed most anxious during this time and he stressed we could never stay out for too long."

You fell silent, reflecting on all of it. It was almost dizzying with all the fond and sweet memories you recalled. Your eyes were focused on the still burning fire. Again, you partook in more wine, emptying your goblet.

"Pardon me, I require more wine," you said, starting to get up and fetch the pitcher Berwûld left behind for you.

"Allow me," you consort said, standing up. "You look quite comfortable and I do not want to rouse you from your seat."

The sound of his armored feet bounced off the stone floor. You continued to look into the fireplace and listened in on the sound of him moving. He paused as he stopped at the table and retrieved the vessel. Then he made his way back to you.

Obligingly, you presented your goblet and he poured more wine in for you. You thanked him once it reached your desired amount and he promptly returned to his seat. As soon as he ceased pouring, you drank more.

"But I miss it all," you resumed after a few more moments of silence and recollection. "We had apple trees on our property but there was more than that. Our garden had roses, tulips, daffodils, irises, sunflowers, phlox… We had a menagerie of things. It was my mother who cultivated such a lovely garden. My father used to tease her by telling her she must've had some Hobbit blood in her veins because she loved horticulture so much." You smiled and felt tears come to your eyes. "I am happy to have been born to them and to have known them my whole life. I will mourn them and miss them along with everyone else but I am happy because I experienced it. Things are gone and will never be the same but those memories will be with me until I draw my last breath. They will always be there. For that, I am grateful…and I must remind myself of that."

The Witch-king was completely silent. You hardly took notice of his behavior as you were busy reminiscing over days long past.

"It is a pity I cannot sympathize," he finally stated. "I wish I could contribute but it is beyond me. I would tell you about my home in return. You have shared such a near and dear matter with me and I can offer nothing in exchange. Even if I tried my hardest to remember…" The Wraith became quiet for a few seconds. "There is simply nothing there. He ripped it from my mind and I cannot hope to recover it."

You knew it all too well. But you felt no anger at him for his inability to contribute. Rather than that, you pitied him. You had learned to forgive him. It was beyond his control and it was not his choice to forget. The blame was to be shifted onto someone else entirely.

"I understand," you said, wanting to put him at ease. If you could try to keep him in good spirits, you would attempt it. "We both have lost things that we treasured. We can agree on that at least."

"Indeed…" the lead Nazgûl's tone became lower. His fingers flexed subtly. "We are alike in that one way it seems. But I do not have my memories. I have been without them for so long. My queen, you have yours and you should never take them for granted. Never squander or curse them."

He raised one of his hands and reached over to wipe the tears away. Even with the sharp metal of his gauntlets, he was careful and ginger as he stroked your cheek. His grazes were mindful and he had no intention to even inadvertently scratch you.

"I know this was meant to be," you said. You tilted your head back and took a hearty gulp of the wine. You could feel yourself becoming affected by your drink but you also felt completely comfortable and secure. "I have accepted everything. I know… I know there is a reason why our paths met."

"At ease," he urged you. His inflection was firm but not hostile. "You are drinking too much too quickly."

"I'll be fine, my lord. I haven't eaten much today, perhaps that is why it's hastening."

"You are also weary. Grief is still clinging to your heart. Slumber will aid you and give you some relief."

"It is fine. I feel better with the wine and talking about that which I love and miss…"

"If it will help you, tell me more. It is only us and the fire. No one else is here or listening. You are in good company."

You sighed and let your head lean against the plush back of the chair. You stared into the flames yet again, feeling entranced by it. The way they danced and jumped about was almost hypnotic. As the wine worked on you, you felt as if you were becoming more pliable.

"You may speak and I will only listen," he said. "Talk as much as you desire."

The sip you took this time was far more conservative. You continued to lean back, your eyes still studying the fireplace.

"I remember hearing the bluebirds' song in spring," you began. "They would leave during the autumn but they would always return in time. My sister Lithwen and I built a bird house for a pair of them one year and they always used it every year afterwards. It was pleasant listening to them and I never complained when they sang to each other and woke me up in the morning. They are beautiful and simple creatures with no care in the world other than to sing and raise their young… And in the late summer, the insects would sing at night. They would continue until early fall. Mitharion, my brother, found them annoying and even maddening but they were like a lullaby to me. I have many fond memories of falling asleep to their nocturne…"

A yawn escaped from your mouth, mildly surprising yourself. You didn't realize how tired you were until that point. Your eyes were becoming heavy rather quickly and you it felt as if your eyelids were like ponderous, iron curtains. It became harder to keep them open.

"Go on," you heard him encourage you. His voice was raspy but also soft and soothing.

It felt so strange but you thought as if you could actually hear the sound of crickets. However, you dismissed it, assuming it was your altered, inebriated state to blame. It was either that or you had finally succumbed to insanity. If that was the case, it had taken awhile but you were expecting it to happen sooner or later.

"And I must tell you something," you said. The memory suddenly came to you from the deep recesses of your childhood. It seemed all but forgotten until this particular moment. "I remember the first time I heard about you. I had a dear friend named Veronica who lived in Bree and her grandmother threatened her to behave lest 'the King of the frozen North' would come and kidnap her for her misbehavior. She argued with her grandmother, saying such a thing was a fairy tale. But her grandmother asserted that he was very much real and he had a mountain fortress that he dwelled in. It caught my interest but Veronica dismissed it, saying her grandmother was only lying. But the next time I saw my grandfather, I asked him about it." You paused, clearly remembering the moment. Aldahir was a stout and brave man but his expression became soured and worried when you inquired him about the matter. The look on his face would never leave you. "He asked me how I found out about such a thing and I told him Veronica's grandmother brought it up. I could see something like fear gleaming in his eyes but it was so brief and fleeting, I could've mistaken it for something else. He told me I was too young of a child to ask about such a thing. He said he would tell me the truth of the matter when I was older. However, I was stubborn and I persisted. I entreated him to tell me." Another sip of the red, velvety liquid came past your lips. The sound of crickets still danced in your ears. Your eyes finally shut but you were still awake. "He told me about you. He told me and I never forgot. As I grew older, I had a greater desire for the histories and knowledge of where I lived. I yearned to learn more about the enemy of my people. And never did I imagine this would come to pass."

Exhaustion tightened its grip on you. You felt yourself drifting off, plunging into the serene darkness. You were warm and at peace. It had been a very long time since you last felt so secure and tranquil. You couldn't restrain the smile that appeared on your face.

"I am naught but a silly and frivolous woman..."

As soon as you finished speaking, you surrendered to the allure of slumber. You slept deeply and peaceful and nothing stirred you. 

You dreamt of home and your childhood that night. Visions of the bluebirds and your mother's garden played before you. You could smell the aroma of countless flowers and the gentle spring rains. You also dreamt of playing amongst the fallen leaves and drinking cider on a chilly autumn day. And you dreamt of sitting by the hearth safe and warm while a blizzard raged outside of the house.

When you finally woke up the next morning, you found yourself in your bed and he was gone.


End file.
